What we left behind to the Children of Kabwe

Stories and News No. 1217

Once upon a time an anomalous wave. A sort of train that runs only forward and, most of the time, does not stop at the designated stations. Since in this world having purchased the ticket, as well as arrived on time on the quay, it does not guarantee you will get on board. Once upon a time its locomotive, which by aiming for the stars, without neglecting Mars and every reachable planet, forgets the essential stuff, like the frozen sea that no longer freezes. Because, like everything else, it has got the worst fault: it is now behind us, irremediably in the past, which sooner or later will come knocking on our door in the future, demanding justice. The aforementioned engine of this abnormal procession, which almost everyone on this planet is following since more than a century, has no name, but it certainly has fine sponsors and financiers. What is not in question is the nationality of the colossal tow, an ambiguously double one: Anglo-American. Everything that has been popular in the world, for at least a hundred years now, has got this peculiar origin: what is trendy in the economy as much as in politics, cinema and literature, in each area. The Internet itself is Anglo-American in every sense of the word, from social networks to whatever sticky website you've come across. Let me be clear, it is certainly not to demonize anyone that this short piece makes sense. But perhaps it is no coincidence that the protagonist of the latter is called Anglo American. I refer to the mining company of the same name, which was recently sued in Zambia for mass lead poisoning of children. As part of a class action action, the company was sued for failing to prevent widespread toxic lead pollution in the city of Kabwe, which housed one of the world's largest mines for many decades. According to the plaintiffs, due to Anglo American's villainy, there are now more than 100,000 children and young women in the aforementioned town who risk suffering lead poisoning due to pollution. According to the attached documents, Anglo American is responsible for what happened in the mine from 1925 to 1974, the period during which the disaster was most perpetrated. Lead poisoning is devastating for the neurological development of children and it seems that the cases examined in the city show dangerously high levels of the metal in the blood. In some areas even twenty times higher than the tolerable limit. Therefore, with the necessary adjustments of a compassionate criterion of reality, the story’s incipit changes: once upon a time what remains behind an inhuman mass of putrid water. But you can call it crazy convoy, if you prefer, hypnotized by the digital horizon that promises success and glory to anyone, possibly with a significant number of followers. Yet behind there are also important numbers, and not only in the single preciousness of a life, but, paradoxically, also in its quantity. One hundred thousand children and girls, try to imagine them in an entire stadium full of innocent spectators with contaminated blood. 545 children with parents who cannot be found due to the gullibility of the crazy serial separators of affections. Or the usual unspecified amount of unfortunates, forced by violence to write “the end” on their own at the bottom of their dreams of survival. Well, even if you are Anglo, American, or not, perhaps we could be the first ones to turn our backs and see what we left behind...

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My new book: A morte i razzisti (Death to racists)

Playing Horns, Trumpets and Raspberries in Kurdish banned in Turkey

Stories and News No. 1216

Turkey bans the adaptation of a play by Dario Fo into Kurdish for terrorist propaganda

Istanbul, Turkey (2020, incredibly...)

To all European and non-European citizenship, close to the border or for alliance’s reasons, joined for simple economic or strategic interest, that is, tolerant and silencing for personal gain. This is the auctioneer speaking. By unquestionable order of the Authorities, as well as on behalf of the Magnificent and Illustrious, as well as Untouchable, President Recep Tayyip Erdoğan, the following order is announced:

First, honking the horn, on any occasion and place, with a noise somehow belonging to the Kurdish language, is absolutely forbidden. Therefore, before buying cars, motorcycles and alike, please, check the language of the aforementioned device.

Second, having the chance to move your lips close to the well-known instrument commonly called trumpet and, once blown into it, you find yourself surprised hearing any of the seven notes and any other variation of them attributable to the Kurdish pentagram, you should know that you have committed an unforgivable crime.

Third, when through the fault of your own body you will be caught emitting the most underrated and effective reactionary gesture in human history, named raspberry, but in the Kurdish meaning, you will be arrested without any appeal.

If, then, you are so bold as to stain yourself with all three serious infractions within the same instance, well, you will be really in trouble. Perhaps you are a repeat offender in your stubborn inclination to make fun of sacred government regulations, even if unfair in the eyes of your hearts and consciences. Maybe, you are one of those crazy people. I mean those creatures deluded by the lights of the scene and falsely protected by a sumptuous scenography or the theater’s wings. Yes, I am aware that from time to time, one of them surprise the exhibitors of the much larger show which theirs is staged in, taking away the Nobel Prize for literature, for instance. But despite these exceptional exceptions, that today surely would try to unmask as censuring decrees like this, usually the latter is read aloud without any embarrassment, becoming law instantly and whoever wants to obey, will do, while all the others will pay the consequences. While all the others, extending the reference beyond the barbed wire, will remain silent. On the contrary, is anybody out there?

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World Championship of Death Sellers: updated ranking

Stories and News No. 1215

Well, our show could begin like this: ladies and gentlemen, here we are at the usual appointment with the world championship of death-selling countries. Today we are going to tell you the updated ranking. Well, after all, we are not on video, but on a page (and perhaps it is no coincidence, given the inconvenience of the topic...). So, to rectify: dear readers, we are going to present you the official ranking on the most important tournament in the world, ignored and underestimated. However, to be honest, considering the peculiar sporting specialty - if we want to call it that - it is a generally masculine issue, this. Therefore, the introduction becomes: dear men, welcome to the race of races, the one that more than any others decides the fate of each generation and any place on earth. We are on the air, that is on paper, to report our two rankings appropriately compiled based on recent updates. Let's start immediately with the one relating to the richest deal of 2019. At first place there is - drum rolling - Russia, with the sale of 6 Akula submarines to India for 3.3 billion euros. Silence please, let the do-gooders out of the room. What does it mean that India is forced to face violence and poverty and then spends billions on four submarines? This is the usual demagogy. Moreover, the submarines are six and not four, jeez. Let's just stop with interruptions, please. At second place the inevitable United States, which sold combat ships to Saudi Arabia for one billion and 950 million dollars. At third place Brazil, which collected $932 million from Portugal for five tactical transport aircraft. Well, you know how much the Portuguese need tactical aircraft these days... Oops, who was it to make this last comment? Ignore it, please. At fourth place there is still Russia, which took over $540 million from Malaysia in exchange for fighter jets, and at fifth place again the US, which sold four war aircraft to Norway for $595 million. But now we come to the highlight of the evening, which is the top ten of the major exporters of death from 2010 to 2019. At first place there are, as now every year, the unattainable United States of America, with almost 350 billion dollars. At the second we have the United Kingdom. With its hundred million and more dollars has surpassed Russia at third, enriched with a slightly lower figure. At fourth there is France with about seventy billion, at fifth there is Germany with twenty-five and at sixth, around twenty billions, there is Italy. Israel, Canada, Spain and Sweden follow. Well, that's all for today. Have you taken note? Great. Continue to follow us, to bet on us, and allow us to profit from the conflicts in every corner of the planet without being hurt. Thank you so much, because since the world began, wars and silence on how and why are made it is gold. Indeed, billions of dollars...

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White privilege in Italy and other advantages

Stories and News No. 1214

Here is the count of privileges. Undoubted advantages at birth, received without any merit whatsoever, which make the difference between a small, lucky minority and the majority of humanity. Maybe, it would be appropriate to be aware of them before opening your mouth and giving breath to every instinct or emotion, rather than a reasoned thought. What privileges? Well, your question makes me think… Anyway, here is the Decalogue:

1 You are white

2 You are male

3 You are a citizen with all the right papers of an European nation - apart from the poorest ones - or the United States, Canada, Australia and New Zealand too

4 You are an adult, because the respect for the rights and needs of children seems to be a matter still far from becoming a priority all over the world... 

5 You had at least one parent who could take care of you

6 You had a family that allowed you to study

7 You had - and maybe still have - family members who have helped you financially, subsidizing, supporting and above all protecting your dreams

8 You do not belong to any category known to be discriminated at any latitude or specifically in the place you live

9 You came into the world with no major malformation or any chronic and debilitating disease

10 You are not necessarily forced to leave the place where you were born to survive or even aspire to a normal life, where being able to get a job and a roof over your head is not just the result of a miracle

Now, it is self-evident that not all the aforementioned privileges are of equal value, but I do not think I need to point out which are the most favorable ones. However, it seems axiomatic to me that by enjoying at least three of such congenital facilitations, in the modern society of human disparities, you are taking advantage of a very benevolent start on the life’s path. If they are exactly the first three, well, I don't think further speeches are needed. Then, if you daily use at least half of these benefits, you necessary must to keep them in mind in every single moment of your auspicious existence. Finally, if you are the beneficiaries of all ten of the aforementioned profits, but at the same time you still feel entitled to complain about the understandable and peaceful invasions and justified grievances and rebellions of your fellow people, not equally kissed by good luck, it would be appropriate to write down the list, put it in your pocket, and never move without, towards any destination...

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Suarez italian test Jus Soli's children story

Stories and News No. 1213

Once upon a time hundreds of thousands of children in Italy. Hundreds of thousands, almost a million, of children born in Italy from non italian parents. According to the actual italian law, the Jus sanguinis, they won’t be able to be italian citizens before 18 years old. In the meantime, they live here, going at school, hundreds of thousands of children and young people, but you may also say almost a million, they exist. Then, suddenly, the miracle happened. Like a single firework in the open sky, during the day and not on a particular festive and celebratory occasion. The children called it Suarez's gift, the fable of a mirage that becomes real. By mistake, maybe, probably by scam, to be honest, but what matters in any fairy tale – or miracle – what matters is the effect on those who feel it more in their lives. The news quickly occupied the front pages of all the newspapers: to obtain the much desired citizenship it would have been enough to pronounce the italian verbs in the infinitive form. Really? All the children and young people said. But we do it all the time, you know? Every conjugation of our life is constantly projected far beyond the horizons and any obstacle you may conceive. Because we use only verbs in the infinitive form. How to hope of being treated one day like our lucky peers. And to imagine that this day will come soon. How to dream that it has already arrived. And to fantasize about being able to forget all those days, months and years when being accepted as everybody was just a dream. How to plan the life that will come trusting that in that wonderful moment our country will no longer reject us. And to pray of finding the strength to resist, where this still happens. Finally, how to love and respect this land, which is also ours, regardless of what the stamped papers scream. And to ask that it will do the same with us. Meanwhile, until the day this miracle will really happen, here, now, in this present, just remember that we will continue to live, going to school and exist. Next to you.

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The empty half of the school desk

Stories and News No. 1212

Once upon a time there was the desk. Like the school one, on wheels or not, old and new, as long as you can imagine the classroom that hosts it, the whole school and everything you can remember for sure. Because you have been there, you have lived part of your life there, or because perhaps the fruit of mutual love – or mere passion – he or she is in turn living this particular, delicate and fundamental phase in their personal journey. Do you see the desk? Can you touch it with your fantasy’s fingers, hopefully surviving the digital dream suckers and horizons burners called social networks? Well, I presume you will easily agree with me that, like the chairs, the blackboards of the past and their erasers, or a cold IWB and the ever-present teaching post, is just a piece of furniture, a fragment of a special show’s schenography, where the brave protagonists, called students and professors, minimizing their value somewhat, are the meaning of everything. To be honest, they are the whole show. Why brave? Well, because nowadays it really takes a fearless heart to do both: open eyes and ears to rely on the teachings of an adult and stranger specimen, with everything we have done in recent decades. Nonetheless, at the same time, women and men who are there every day, in front of their literal future, trying to remedy the mistakes of their own generation and the previous one, they deserve as much admiration. Because they are hopefully helping them to make things right. Well, can you see the desk better now? Not just any school desk, but the great one. The one that awaits, or should do, every student on the planet. Are you also looking at what I have before my eyes? I am talking about the two different halves that make it up. Can you see the empty part in front of the unoccupied chair by the perpetually absent student? Because about 872 million children from 51 countries, half of the student population of our entire planet, have not returned to school at all, due to the Covid-19. But the most tragic aspect, a sort of further part of this already devastated half, 463 million children among those unfortunate at birth in the previous months could not even take advantage of the much-hated distance lessons. Because for them the computer is a fairy gift from overseas paradises, let alone the magic called internet. School is everything, to us and others, who survive beyond the margins of our more or less small perception of things. Each of us must commit himself personally, at any latitude, making the primary place of learning every day better than the one before. At the same time, however, let us never forget the most important of the teachings: there are billions of lives beyond the windows of our classroom, the living room, the kitchen or the bedroom, the office where we work, as well as the windshield and windows of cars, bus and train, or even the cell phone monitor and PC screen, from which we can learn at any moment the difference between complaining about something and not having it at all...

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Willy Monteiro Duarte killing: when a black is killed in Italy

Stories and News No. 1211
 

When a black is killed in Italy.
The story is all here. The story in the news. The latter’s storytelling and of an entire country, which insisted in strenuously trying to hide behind empty speeches, composed of empty words and phrases such as the heart that gave birth to them.
Because when a black is killed from whites in Italy, for the majority of people the ignoble chatter counts more than a lost life.
As an undisputed proof of this, when a white man is killed by the blacks, the barking and new fascist company is united in a compact and harmonious chorus: bad Blacks and kisses and hugs to the poor white man! Because – after all – in Italy the Blacks are bad until proven otherwise for everyone.
Let's be honest, at least here, right? Let's face it. Because that was true yesterday and it will be so tomorrow. It is inside the character’s biography that we came up with, come on. As a variant of the worst interpretation, Blacks are criminals and slackers, dirty and uncivilized people, dishonest and disrespectful, ignorant and, more than anything else, squatters of a land that is not and never will be theirs.
At best, in the incredibly bitter moral of our story, they are the ones who die. Whose existences quickly disappear from the screenplay, like typos or redundant words that slow down the plot and which you should get rid of with easy carelessness during the revision phase.
Thus, a few days after the barbaric murder of a young man of twenty-one, while the warmth of the hearts and flames of the torches of those who marched in Paliano can still be felt - the only one who has managed to warm the cold I feel - we are already beginning to talk more about the “terrible” aggression suffered by Matteo Salvini (see the case from a black woman ...).
Then the most urgent question becomes for some to defend at all costs the good name of Mixed Martial Arts, in short MMA.
Yet, to notice the evident caption of this painful story, it would be enough to read the racist comments that gradually appeared on the web in the hours following the murder. You know what? But you know, they are there every day, every hour, minute, second, on and off the internet...
The only statement that has comforted me, from my personal point of view, is from Ghali: dear colleagues, the rapper asks, why don't you talk?
Well, if you want, I'll answer, my friend. Your colleagues do not talk about it, but also their relatives, friends or simple acquaintances, because in this cursed matter of Whites and Blacks, we are all accountable in this country.
All guilty. All a little bit murderous and all a little racist. Indeed, in this case, not a little, but a lot. Well, until we begin to admit it every single day, at least to ourselves, as the incipit of each discourse on civil tolerance, peaceful coexistence and the dutiful respect for those who are different from us, of blacks and even whites we will still see many others falling under the blows of the dullest hatred. And a moment later, we will again see shameful carousels like this...


PS: Italian Black Lives Matter

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My new book: A morte i razzisti (Death to racists)

I would like a vaccine

Stories and News No. 1210
 

I would like a vaccine.
Not the one for Covid-19, which many are rightly waiting.
I would like a vaccine of a special kind, good for viruses and diseases of an even more subtle type than the one that is sadly claiming victims in enormous quantities in most of the world. These are much less lethal illnesses in the short term, I know, and for this reason equally less feared by most. However, more than ever at this moment in my life, this awareness does not diminish the desire to enjoy an antidote against such particular pathologies. That is, the so-called pathogens, spreaders of the relative disease.
Let me be clear, I am not claiming full immunity, because it would be unacceptable in those who, like myself, aspire to relate with an open mind and heart with the daily facts of life. But, how can I say, I would appreciate a drug that can help me overcome the inevitable infection.
I would like this vaccine, then.
I would like it to allow me to remind myself with lightning punctuality – whenever I find it in front of my eyes – that much we find on the web are not newspapers, despite the name, offering real news about facts, but something else, doing something else, and there lies the danger for the readers.
I would also like a vaccine that would make me close my eyes and, without showing any sign of the time elapsed, would allow me to reopen them to live in a country whose the government’s leader, when someone dares to exploit migrants and refugees to hide his own inadequacy, instead of humoring him, he admonished him with a clear and thunderous voice, rejecting his vulgar racism without ifs and buts.
At the same time, I would like this vaccine to help me immediately identify the really noteworthy news, despite being relegated to the smaller areas of the daily narrative of events.
I would like it to show me not only the unpleasantness and sadness of the facts, but even the slightest hint of suggestions on how to prevent them.
Yes, I know, what I dream of is an extraordinary vaccine, but while I am here I would like it to instill in me a pinch of faith, which is now in short supply in myself, that the news about the umpteenth murder of a black person by the police had some kind of enlightening action on the brain of the unconscious racists.
And, last but not least, I would like it to massively counter the pessimism that surrounds me when I find myself reading the same tragedies every day, as if they were inevitable punishments inflicted by fate on the unfortunate of this world, and not the consequence of an entire society’s inhumanity.
I'd like a vaccine for all of that, and more. But then I leave my desk, I take a walk through the streets of the city, I calmly observe the time and place I was destined to, I breathe and absorb once again the world that remains, and I remember that the lockdown of my mind and my heart, of the imagination and the desire to change things, it is a choice only ours.
And so, as always, I start over.


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Seeking wonder

Stories and News No. 1209
 

Recently I have had the opportunity to read that Covid-19 pandemic was a sort of general test of the world’s end. It could be, I consider it a reasonable observation, but in my humble opinion – especially regarding the lockdown – it is also an extreme and caricatured representation of our own present, not just the future.
Occasionally I happen to think back to those days when in Italy we almost all lived locked at home, with windows or balconies as the only glances granted to the outside world. In addition, of course, to the digital portholes to explore the chaotic backdrops of the World Wide Web and, more than anything else, the much underestimated imagination. But you may also call it as the ever free internet, infinite until proven otherwise and capable of connecting anyone with anyone in any place and time.
Italian lockdown has ended, although I am convinced that some of us is still trapped at home, on the embalmed sofa in front of the TV, on the bed staring at the ceiling looking for an exit, in front of the mirror in the vain waiting the other saying a word or maybe at the table in the kitchen hoping that the lunch will never end. But safe, or with the idea of being so, thanks to armored doors, railings on the windows and even garlic. As we might say, it's not true... but I protect myself.
Not true. Which means it is false, it is a lie, it is the result of an oversight, an invention or even

someone else's cheat. Of someone who, more or less authorized by us, has got the right to tell us what is happening outside our trusted caves.
For this reason, if you cross the threshold of your apartment or suddenly lose the freedom to do so, I think that our generation was born in lockdown. And despite having experienced the embrace of the sun on our skin if it mixes with sea water, once lying on the towel after a nice bath, many made the choice to give up the real meeting in exchange for a mendacious and illusory dramatization of living. All provided that it was harmless, as it could happen in a movie or a video game.

In such a case, I am not surprised that United States, United Kingdom and Russia are not listed on the group of countries blocked by italian government due to the risk of Coronavirus’ spread. Even if they are on first places in the world ranking for number of positive patients and deaths. Above all, no one has yet decided to point it out...

I am not surprised to learn that not only the essential is invisible to our eyes, as the little prince would say, but also what is simply human and in need of help.

I am not shocked by reading that among the various topics to think about that the pandemic suggested there is our incomprehensible and ostentatious blindness in front of the colossal crisis that contains all the others: global warming and climate change.
I am no longer stunned, by now, by the parasites of others’ misfortunes and their cruel job to get likes and possibly votes.

That's why we should get out of bed every day trying to open our eyes more, every morning more. That's why we need to read new and above all different stories as much as possible. This is why we should often cover our mouths with a special mask, composed of dutiful curiosity and healthy empathy, and listen to others with the right attention.
Because we may still be wondered before other people, and maybe for something good.
We don't have much time, right now, but there is still some before sunset...


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Why do we migrate?

Stories and News No. 1208
 

Why do we migrate?
I mean all of us, nobody should feel immobile.
Why do we leave the country, the place, the exact point on the map where we are, to move further, elsewhere, over there, as long as it is not here?
You could avoid conversing with me on such a crucial issue, and maybe get carried away by the usual and punctual train, subtly powered by instrumental lies. But if instead you want to reason on the fundamental question, instead of being

anesthetized by the best-selling answers, that is, false and only apparently free, I promise you that I will try to make it simple, like a short story.
Let's say your home is the world. Although for many out there, it is exactly like that.
Let's imagine that this brief tale lasts one day. We choose a day of celebration, without particular and routine commitments, in order to make the plot less banal. Even if, the incipit can only be taken for granted, I admit, thinking about the awakening of the average citizen deprived of the obligation by the watch.
Thus, due to the caress of a ray of sunshine, the inappropriate steps of someone outside the room – or the apartment itself – the usual noises of the city, the eyelids are raised and the story begins.
You pull yourself up and realize you're sweating. The night was hot and the sultry morning that welcomes you does not portend anything different for the rest of the day.
You put on your slippers and get up. It is time to move on, now. To make the first taken for granted trip: the one towards the bathroom, to satisfy the most basic of primary needs.
Well, dear pilgrim brother, leaving out the specificity of that biological urgency, here is the first reason why people migrate: need. What am I saying? I don't give credit to the real drama if I don't use the plural: needs. All the needs you can imagine among the basic ones. Imagine finding yourself, I'm not saying one or two, but with each of the human, basic unmet needs. In addition, add also the climatic change that in your case disturb sleep and little else, and that some obtuse people still insist on minimizing. In this situation, you would migrate, would you? And you would also do it running with your head down, believe me.
Nonetheless, imagine finding someone at the bathroom entrance telling you that you cannot go in. Saying that you do not have the papers and not even the human right to cross the threshold. A nightmare, isn't it? Yeah, but think if you were awake instead...
Anyway, once your morning problem is solved, you retrace your steps and you do what? You migrate again, traveling friend, you migrate. Because the throat is dry, but you don't despair at all. Because you know that at the price of a few meters of shuffling steps on the parquet floor of your slippers – flip flops of these months – you will come to the undervalued realm of the kitchen and its wonderful gifts. Among all, a tap with drinking water and a refrigerator, more or less full of clean and fresh food.
Nonetheless, at this point you can easily guess a further reason why millions of people, not to say a thousand times as many, give up their bed and the little more they have: a magic knob – but you may also call it mixer, the portentous is even bigger – and a fairy door. You turn the first one and could find out what it means to be able to quench your thirst like an annoying fly whenever you want. You may open the latter and the promised land, with its fruits, is so near the stomach.
Nevertheless, let's imagine that at the entrance of the aforementioned realm you find shady characters, free to beat you up and drive you back into the real nightmare where you believed that dreaming of escaping from the latter was normal. And above all, humanly understandable.
But your luck is that you are just passing through the lines of a harmless story. That’s why, after drinking and having breakfast, you are going to migrate again. Again and again, from one room to another, real or virtual, these days. Then, not satisfied with that, you take advantage of the privilege of the movement, received only by chance from fate, and prepare to continue the journey beyond the borders of the world called home – wherever your desire, bold or virtuous, and the needs of the moment will guide you, from infinitely high to the most miserable one. And at every limit of your habitual wandering between one world and another, you do not even contemplate for a fraction of a second to find yourself suddenly facing an impassable wall. Otherwise, you, you would hit the floor with your feet and scream with anger at the undoubted abuse. Because existing means being able to move from one second to another, from one centimeter to another, from one life to another.
At the end of the day, then, you will enjoy without any awareness of the benefit of being able to go back to where it all began. And you will fall asleep more or less restless, but with that minimum of serenity due to the knowledge that the next day, once you will open your eyes, what makes you immensely lucky will still be reachable...


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When elephants fall

Stories and News No. 1207
 

More than 350 elephants died in northern Botswana in a mysterious mass death defined by scientists as a "conservation disaster". Something similar had already happened in the African state in May, where 169 animals died, just near some pools of water.
The local government has not yet tested carcass samples, so there is no precise information on what is causing the deaths or if they could be a risk to human health. The two main possibilities are poisoning or an unknown pathogen. However, according to experts there is no precedent which proves that it is a natural phenomenon, but without adequate controls, it will not be possible to discover the truth.
On the other hand, the search for the latter, especially when it forces us to get on the dock, is definitely not our best.
So, as the generalist press often prefers, let's focus on the deceased, rather than investigating the causes, currently mysterious, but precisely for this reason worthy of being identified.

Indulge me for the time of a half page or a little more, and instead of thinking about the origins of a collective death, a both alarming and disarming one, let's try to observe the consequences of this tragic loss for the animal kingdom in the form of a metaphor which to draw something significant from.
So, when elephants fall.
When elephants fall, and it is not only an episodic accident, but the thundering and inexorable collapse of many, you cannot ignore the sound of the thud on the innocent surface of the planet.
Because when elephants fall, it is the largest and most underrated creatures on earth that plummet from the top of their complex lives.
If what is far more imposing and ancient than you definitively gives up to its enemy, natural or artificial it might be, you cannot remain indifferent, especially if the latter adjective concerns you personally. In the most absolute way, when the distinction between the two becomes more blurred every day, to the point that there is no earthly tragedy that is not attributable to clapping human hands.
So, if have managed to reawaken your interest, I hope that you cannot consider it irrelevant that we are talking about typically slow animals, thanks to their innate awareness that the speed has meaning only for a valid reason. And this reason, like the one that pushes them to cross kilometers of suffocating heat and hostile land, has to do with a good that you have guilty taken for granted, or even persecuted: survival, but you may also read it as the pot filled with clean water and a loaf of bread at the end of the rainbow called the Mediterranean sea.
Because you see, dear friend, that you observe from afar the evocative photos of the mysterious departure of our colossal planet brothers, when an elephant falls, it is as if the memory itself crashed, proverbial in their case.
So, where we dwell on this latter allegorical digression, think about the noise could the indelible memories of all falling creatures could make, that we have also filed as a conservation disaster. In this case, despite being aware this is not what the above scientists mean, I have the impression that the only conservation that these disasters guarantee is for those who never fall...
Nonetheless, if you know what interrupting suddenly the path, never reaching the desired goal, means, maybe you will also feel a little compassion for those good giants of the world, who do not need to eat meat, go to the gym and scream with arrogance to dominate us all.
Because the humble and respect they had living their life is the same when they go away forever.



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